


Exquisite Ways

by PetraTodd



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femlock, Fingerfucking, Genderswap, Hair Brushing, Oral Sex, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetraTodd/pseuds/PetraTodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock misbehaves, Molly demands an apology from her, and the detective is determined to earn forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exquisite Ways

Sherlock always said such horrible things, Molly thought. But she made up for it in such exquisite ways.

The detective had been a terror that evening, driving a lab tech nearly to tears before Molly intervened. The slowness of the new employee combined with the annoying absence of John Watson, away on holiday with his wife, had left Sherlock in a foul mood.

Rebecca excused herself and ran to the loo with watery eyes, while Molly fumed. She had _thought_ Sherlock softened somewhat since her return to London and the living world. Forced to die for her friends by Moriarty, the fiction of her heartlessness was revealed to her, and even Sherlock Holmes could not deny that she cared. But there were days when she slid back into old habits, when her sharp tongue was still faster than empathetic pathways of her brain. Days when Molly wanted to shake the damn woman for not seeing that she was this close to driving a promising technician to quitting.

Unconcerned with Molly’s glowering, Sherlock bent to sniff the dead man’s hair. As she leaned in, she pulled her long dark hair back and away from the corpse with one hand.

Molly stifled a giggle, remembering one disgusting incident four years ago when the detective hadn’t been careful enough around the opened chest of a drowning victim.  Sherlock was too proud of her work- and vain when it came to her silky curls- to make some mistakes more than once.

Sherlock inhaled deeply, and her blue-green eyes lit up. She gestured with her free hand at Lestrade to move closer to the body. As she stepped aside to make room for him, her Belstaff coat parted to reveal she’d been traipsing around a crime scene in a pencil skirt and heeled ankle boots again.

_How on earth does she manage it?_ Molly wondered, shaking her head. _I would break my neck in that outfit._

“There. There’s your proof. _Shalimar._ An unmistakable scent, and not the one worn by his wife.”

“You can pick up on that over the dead smell?” Lestrade wrinkled his nose. “Our guys didn’t smell anything.”

“Yes, I’m shocked Anderson overlooked the obvious.” Sherlock straightened up and put her hands on her hips. “For god’s sake, he’s barely been dead a few hours. Lean in and take a whiff.” Sherlock’s full lips curved into a victorious smile. She headed for the door as she spoke. “His personal effects indicated he was sleeping with two women other than his wife. One of them is the murderer.”

Sherlock strode out of the morgue with Lestrade trailing behind, trying to follow the stream of additional deductions flowing from her lips.

“Sherlock, a minute please. Sherlock!” Molly called, resolved  to act. The woman owed Rebecca an apology. She had allowed the detective too much leeway over the years when it came to her, and that was fine. That was between her and Sherlock. But it was unacceptable for her to treat the younger employee that way. She stripped off her gloves, disposed of them and hurried down the hall. With her long-legged stride, Sherlock was nearly at the stairs before Molly caught up.

“What?” She snapped and turned.

Lestrade’s eyebrows rose. He read the serious set of Molly’s face and stepped back. “Ah, I’m going out for a smoke. See you in five?” He was out the double-doors before the women could react.

“Knew he’d started again! Why does he even try to lie? So obvious- the flecks of tobacco on his pocket, the smell,” Sherlock muttered.

“Because he knows that you like figuring it out.” Molly bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Seeing Lestrade and Sherlock fall into their comfortable patterns following the DI’s reinstatement gave her a warm happy feeling but she pushed it aside. “I want to talk to you about Rebecca.”

“Who?” Sherlock tapped the toe of her high-heeled boot impatiently.

“The girl who just ran out of here crying.”

“Oh the pretty one you work with these days. You’re protecting her now, that’s cute,” Sherlock remarked. “”Have a crush, do we?”

Molly’s face reddened. “I do not have a crush,” she hissed. “That would be unprofessional; please don’t say things like that.” She glanced around, thankful the hallway was deserted. The last thing she needed was someone to think she was dating a subordinate. “As a favor, to me.”

Sherlock’s catlike eyes were unreadable as she leaned in, her shrewd gaze assessing the pathologist.

“Of course. As a favor, as your _friend._ ” She smirked and spun around, dashing up the stairs before Molly realized that she never did get Sherlock to apologize for bullying the technician.

* * *

Molly was drying off after a hot shower and rubbing her exhausted calf muscles when she heard the soft clicks of a door opening and closing.

“It’s me,” the familiar voice called.

She didn’t respond, still stewing in annoyance. She jumped off her bed and grabbed an oversized t-shirt from the wardrobe. She had just shrugged into it when the doorframe was filled with a tall presence.

“You didn’t respond. You’re angry with me,” Sherlock said flatly, her eyes narrowed. She watched as Molly picked up a comb, aiming to attack the tangles in her long hair.

“You were terrible tonight. Really awful.” She yanked the comb through her hair, pulling a knot out and wincing as hair came loose with it.

“Give it to me,” Sherlock rolled her eyes. She grabbed the comb from Molly before she could protest. She gripped Molly’s shoulders and backed her onto the bed, until the other woman sighed and sat down.

Sherlock shed her coat, tossing it onto a chair, and made quick work of the wet snarls with her skilled fingers. Once the tangles were gone, she used a brush to smooth the waves of hair down Molly’s back.

Against her will, Molly relaxed into the soothing touch of the brush against her scalp. “You owe her an apology you know.”

“Who?” Sherlock hummed Paganini as she worked, her cool fingers skating along Molly’s throat.

“You know who. Rebecca. She’s a good tech. She works hard.”

Sherlock set the comb aside and slid her hands into the damp locks of hair, letting them slide between her fingers. The fragrance of Molly’s mango shampoo scented the air.

“You like her a lot. You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.” Sherlock’s fingertips stroked her scalp, and Molly leaned into her touch.

Her eyes snapped open in realization.  Sherlock’s silly comment in the hallway about a crush came back to her. “Is that it? Are you- jealous?!”

Sherlock was silent, and her hands stilled. “Should I be?”  Her eyes were shielded and cold.

Molly sat up straight and turned to face her. “Oh, _Sherlock.”_  

She crawled onto the bed and cupped Sherlock’s face, her thumbs caressing the high cheekbones that never failed to take her breath away. “I risk everything to save your life, I spend years dealing with you, until you finally realize _this_ is where you belong, and then you are going to still mistreat a lab tech because you’re jealous? You complete shit.” Molly laughed. “I would _shake_ you if I didn’t love you so much.”

She threw her arms around Sherlock, and kissed her softly until the woman’s tense shoulders relaxed and Molly felt her long arms snake around her.

“Complete shit?” The degree of surprise in Sherlock’s voice was gratifying to Molly.

“Sometimes. Tonight. You will apologize, right?” She kissed her harder this time, allowing Sherlock to roll her onto her back.

“Ermm yes, ‘suppose,” she murmured, licking her way down Molly’s throat. One hand roamed down to tug up the t-shirt and slip between her legs. Sherlock stroked the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, the ticklish patches that made her girlfriend shiver and laugh at the same time. “If I do…is there a reward?”

Molly sank her hands into her dark curls. “Don’t think you really understand the concept of being sorry if you want a reward, Sherl. Oh,” she sighed, as Sherlock’s fingertips found her clit and began gently manipulating the bundle of nerves, teasing her in tight circles while her mouth explored Molly’s throat. Her clever fingers stroked and then rolled flat against the sensitive nub hard and then soft until Molly’s fists clenched in Sherlock’s hair- and then it was Sherlock’s turn to yelp.

Molly giggled and relinquished her hold on her hair. The dark-haired woman pulled up onto her knees to strip off her blouse and bra. Molly sat up and pulled her close, tonguing the pale brown tips of her breasts, while Sherlock rocked against her. The woolen fabric of her skirt scraped against Molly teasingly and she slid her hands around to caress Sherlock’s arse in the material. She took hold of the skirt hem and lifted, but a strong hand caught hold of her wrist before it moved an inch. Sherlock’s other hand on her shoulder pushed her onto her back again.

“I’m feeling more apologetic by the minute, truly.” She grinned and crawled backward, settling between Molly’s legs before nudging her thighs apart and licked her way to the edge of her cunt.

Sherlock leaned in and nuzzled the soft nest of curls. “Have I ever told you how much I love your body?” She brushed aside the hair, traced the edge of her labia, parting the folds to flick her tongue over Molly’s clit lightly. “The way you taste, your texture.”

Molly groaned, sinking a hand into Sherlock’s curls, not caring if she pulled on them anymore. Her grip tightened as the woman’s tongue swirled around her clit, down and over, never in one spot for too long, until she was moaning and arching into Sherlock’s tongue. Her hands slid under Molly’s butt, dragging her tight against her face. Buried in her cunt, she slid one finger and then another into her channel, until Molly was full and fucking herself on Sherlock’s fingers with her clit aching and her body ready to burst. She rocked until the hot shiver ran up her spine and her belly rippled with the force of it, and then her cunt was shaking against Sherlock’s mouth while she cried out her name.

Sherlock smiled as her girlfriend came trembling against her and then collapsed onto the bed.

“I told you I was sorry,” she said, crawling up to lay alongside Molly and throw an arm across her stomach.

Molly’s eyes opened halfway and she waved an arm limply. “Mmm, yes. Say it to Rebecca, though.”

Her eyebrows rose. “In the same fashion?”

Molly’s eyes opened all the way and she rolled over to grasp the zipper of Sherlock’s skirt. “Don’t even think about it, Ms. Holmes,” she remarked as the skirt hit the floor, along with the matching knickers. “You know what I mean.”

“I suppose I do. Are you atoning for something? What have you done?” Sherlock stroked the drying waves of Molly’s hair, as her woman slid between her thighs and kissed her belly.

“Nothing yet. But I’m bound to eventually.” Molly’s dimples deepened. “Might as well earn some forgiveness now.”

 


End file.
